


Obitine Week 2019

by sunshineisdelicious



Series: Obitine Week [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Duke Obi-Wan Kenobi, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Jedi Satine Kryze, Korkie is Obi-Wan’s son, Obi-Wan Leaves The Jedi Order, Pregnancy, Prince Obi-Wan Kenobi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-25 03:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19737391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshineisdelicious/pseuds/sunshineisdelicious
Summary: A little celebration of Obi-Wan and Satine.Day 1: Role swap (AU), featuring Jedi Satine and Duke (Prince, actually) Obi-Wan.Day 2: Parenthood, featuring a look at how Satine raised Korkie and Obi-Wan raised Anakin.Day 3: Firsts and lasts, featuring some firsts and lasts of Obi-Wan and Satine’s relationship.Day 4: What could have been (AU), featuring Obi-Wan leaving the Jedi after Episode I.Day 5: Endings (AU), featuring several possible endings stuck in one place.Day 6: Secrets (AU), featuring the aftermath of a rather important secret.Day 7: Anything! (AU), featuring pre-parental panic.





	1. Day 1: Role Swap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For this prompt, I’ve imagined a Jedi Satine and Duke Obi-Wan situation. I’ve mixed it up a bit, though. I hope you enjoy!

Satine stood quietly next to her Master, waiting for the group they were meant to accompany. She was doing her best not to fidget. They had arrived at the landing dock early, after all, and it didn’t make much sense to be upset about punctuality when no one was technically late. 

Qui-Gon knew her too well, though. “Patience, my young padawan,” he said with a smile. “Keep your mind in the moment.”

“Yes, Master,” was the automatic reply. Even with the constant reminders, the lifelong lessons, and the ever-present example of Qui-Gon’s own serenity, she still longed to be  _ doing  _ something all the time. 

Her Master chuckled. “Did you happen to read the mission briefing? I seem to have forgotten to look it over.” 

She knew he was using the excuse to distract her. Still, Satine wondered how Qui Gon functioned as a Jedi before her apprenticeship. Had he ever read a briefing of his own free will? With a small sigh, she summed it up: “It’s two missions in one, really. The first part is to provide extra guard for a prince on his flight to Stewjon. The second is to guard the royal family once we get there.”

“Royalty, hm? Elected, I assume. I’m afraid I don’t know much about Stewjon.” The comment was innocuous enough, but the sideways glance and raised eyebrows were an obvious request for information.

“Sometimes I think you take ‘living in the moment’ too far, Master,” she said wryly. “It does pay to learn of the past, you know.” He chuckled. She proceeded to tell him what she knew anyways. “The Stewjon system does have an elected monarchy, but the House of Kenobi has had a member as king or queen for the past century. Most Stewjonian citizens live on the planet Stewjon itself, and while they are known for being opinionated and stubborn, the Kenobis are equally well known for being excellent negotiators; hence their continued control of the system.”

“And who is this prince?”

“Prince Obi-Wan Kenobi is the second son of Queen Ati-Rin Kenobi. He has been on Coruscant for diplomatic training with the Senate.”

“I see. And why are we guarding the royal family?”

“Stewjon’s monarchy has recently received troubling threats from a possible terrorist group and reached out to the Temple for assistance. We are to provide security for the royal family until the worst of the danger has passed, preferably while conducting our own investigation regarding the terrorists.”

“Interesting. What about—“

The conversation came to a halt as a small group of people, presumably including the prince, arrived. When she looked for a moment longer, it was obvious who the prince was. His clothes were simple in design, but made from finer fabrics than the rest of his entourage. He wore what Satine assumed was the traditional plaid of his House as a sash, a pattern of green, blue, and gray, draped elegantly from shoulder to opposite hip. His auburn hair was stylishly arranged. Every inch of him looked polished, refined, put together—in short, an ideal prince.

While Satine liked to think she didn’t judge others based on appearances, something about this prince (the way he held his head as he walked, the perfect smile on his face, his impeccable clothing) annoyed her. He was too good to be true. Politicians tended to be corrupt anyways, especially ones born into privilege, so trusting that perfect smile would probably not turn out well. She did not like Prince Kenobi, she decided. Of course, she could do nothing about this revelation—a Jedi helps even those she may not like—so she would look at this mission as a trial of patience. Hopefully it wouldn’t last long.

Master Jinn stepped forward and she followed him. “Your highness,” Qui-Gon said with a bow. Satine wondered how her Master had known for sure this was the right man before she mimicked him, being sure not to bow any deeper than was strictly necessary. “I am Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn,” he continued, “and this is my apprentice, Satine Kryze. We have been sent to accompany you to Stewjon.”

The prince returned the bows with a nod and said, “A pleasure to meet the both of you. I am Obi-Wan Kenobi. Thank you for your willingness to help my family in this time of need.” Satine was proud of herself for not scowling at his probably insincere thanks. Did such an arrogant-looking man even care about his family? And she was sure there was some kind of slight in his behavior. He no doubt believed himself to be above the assistance of Jedi, seeing as his guards were checking the dock and the ship unnecessarily. Did they think someone could get past a Jedi? Fools.

She was rather surprised when he met her gaze. People tended to ignore her once they heard she was an apprentice. “I don’t suppose you have any relation to Clan Kryze of Mandalore?” His striking blue eyes were unsettling.

“A Jedi has no family,” she said. Inwardly, she winced. That sounded so cold and abrupt. And possibly as if she was ashamed of her heritage. “That is, the Order is our family.” Better, but not quite it. “Rather, a Jedi forsakes attachment to better serve the Force.” This was terrible. What had been his question? Had she answered it? She could feel her Master’s amusement through the Force, and her mouth twisted a bit. What an auspicious start to a mission. Not ten minutes in and she already looked completely incompetent. 

If the prince was amused or bemused by her rambling, he didn’t show it. He nodded with that same perfect smile. “Of course. Forgive my curiosity; I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Again, probably insincere. He’d probably meant to start one of the “but Mandalorians hate Jedi” conversations that seemed to happen when her birthplace was disclosed. Satine released the annoyance his statement caused with a huff. Insufferable man. 

He turned to Qui-Gon. “Shall we board? I’m quite anxious to be home.” He and her Master walked side by side up the ship’s ramp with Satine trailing behind and the prince’s guards behind her. 

Hopefully, this would be a short mission.

-

The moment they exited hyperspace above the planet Stewjon, the feeling of  _ wrong—danger—caution _ flooded Satine’s senses. She quickly rose from her meditation in one of the side rooms and hurried to the common area of the ship she was sure Qui-Gon would be.

He looked right at her as she came through the door. His face would appear calm to others, but she saw the tightening of his mouth, the slight furrow of his brow, that indicated his concern. He’d felt the warning, too. He made a small gesture with his head that meant “stay here,” then took his leave of the prince and walked in the direction of the cockpit. 

The prince himself also seemed to sense something was wrong. He looked from Satine to the door Qui-Gon had left through and back, all the while shifting in his seat (and somehow managing to make it look refined). “Is anything the matter?” he asked when it was apparent Satine would say nothing.

“I’m sure all is well, your highness,” she replied. He might be spoiled and arrogant, but her job was to protect him. She must keep calm. The guards and crew in the common area seemed to sense nothing wrong at all, and it wouldn’t be wise to start a panic over a feeling the Force had sent. After all, it might have to do with something entirely unrelated.

A part of Satine sighed. These sort of things seemed to happen quite a lot on their missions. And it was almost never unrelated.

Determined to project peace and tranquillity into the room, she took a seat near the prince. She hoped it wouldn’t be long until her Master returned. 

The prince turned his perfectly coiffed head her direction and smiled. “I’m sure you’re right.” Satine smiled back (hopefully it was convincing). Apparently it was, because he continued, “By the way, what would you like me to call you?”

She blinked. “Um.”  _ Nice. Your wittiness is unparalleled, Satine. _

“It was something Master Jinn said earlier,” he went on, and she noticed the slight tightening of one of his fists.  _ Oh. He’s nervous and trying to distract himself.  _ “He said a Jedi apprentice was called a...hm, a padawan, right?”

“Yes,” she said, impressed against her will that he had remembered the rather obscure word.

“I wasn’t sure if that was a title of sorts, or if you prefer ‘miss,’ or if you’d like me use your first or last name, or something else entirely.” Again against her will, Satine found herself impressed by his composure. He kept eye contact, was breathing evenly, and his voice was unstrained. The only tells of stress were the slight rambling and that single fist. “I have the feeling that we’ll be spending a fair amount of time together in the future, and I’d like for us to start off on the right foot.” And he smiled again, his teeth perfectly straight and white (dental procedures, surely), his skin flawless (due to makeup and ridiculously expensive treatments, no doubt), his eyes kind (more makeup and a lifetime of practice at looking sincere).

Before she could give an actual answer, Qui-Gon reentered the room. He was by the prince’s side in a moment. “Your highness, you’ve received a comm,” he said.

The prince frowned a little. Rising from his seat, he said, “Oh. Of course. I’ll take it in—”

“It’s a recording. And I believe your guard will wish to hear it as well, if it is what I think it is.”

One guard member managed to look both annoyed and thankful at the same time. Obi-Wan was frowning in earnest now but settled back into his seat while Qui-Gon worked on pulling up the message on the holo in the center of the room.

Qui-Gon gave a solemn nod in the prince’s direction before he pushed one final button and image of a person with wide, terror-filled eyes appeared, crouched and clutching a small recording device. Some of the guards gasped—they must have recognized the person who was dressed in what looked to be a uniform of some sort.

_ “This message is for Prince Obi-Wan Kenobi. If a member of Kenobi staff intercepts this message, please proceed to act according to code blue and see this message delivered immediately. Prince, I hope this message reaches you before you reach Stewjon.”  _ The person shot a worried glance over their shoulder.  _ “I must be quick. All transmissions from the palace are being blocked and monitored, going in and out. This is a special line, one known only to heads of security, and should be secure. Obi-Wan, my prince, I’m so terribly sorry, but your family has been killed.” _

Satine looked over at the prince with wide eyes. He was white-faced but showed no other emotion. Both arms were crossed, both hands in fists. She quickly looked back to the message.

_ “The House of Kenobi has been targeted, all members of it. I can only assume that this…this gang is the one who threatened your family so publicly. I am unsure of the status of your brother Owen, as he was also off-planet at the time of the attack, but all family members that were at the palace have been killed. Obi-Wan, you must keep yourself safe. Do not come to Stewjon, do not come to the palace, and be—“  _ The recording changed angles suddenly as the device was dropped. There was a staticky scream and other garbled voices before the recording cut off.

The room was very silent. The prince sat, staring unseeingly. Satine shot a wide-eyed glance at Qui-Gon as the guards started to discuss the message.

Satine felt as if this was a failure on the part of the Jedi. Had they not acted quickly enough? Every government was threatened at some point, after all. Should they have come ahead of the prince? Made a public statement that the Jedi were protecting the family? Relocated the entire family off-world immediately? She tried to release her feelings to the Force. This was a time of crisis; this was no time to dwell on anxieties. 

Eventually, the prince stood, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. “A-alright.” The guards went quiet, and one with a hat slightly different than the others (she assumed this was the captain of the guard) stepped forward. 

“My prince,” the woman started, but Obi-Wan shook his head and brushed past her. 

He walked to a panel near the door and pressed a button. “Attention all staff. Code status has been updated to blue. Please act accordingly.”

Immediately, Satine felt a wave of panic and concern from all corners of the ship. 

“Sir!” cried one of the guards. “Sir, this is a dangerous situation. If even one of the crew is part of this—this gang of murderers—“

“Then I will not travel to find my brother with them in tow,” the prince said. His voice was much harder now, but still refined. 

The captain of the guard pinched the bridge of her nose. “Your highness, I wish you would’ve talked this through with us.”

“There’s no time. We shouldn’t even still be standing here talking.” He turned to the door. “No doubt they have some sort of trap planned for us here, and if they know their group has succeeded, they are more likely to spring it. We need to either make our escape now or prevent any sabotage from happening.”

And then the lights cut out, red emergency lights turned on, and a dispassionate voice started saying, “Warning. Depressurization at dangerous levels is detected,” over the speakers. 


	2. Day 2: Parenthood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A canon-compliant piece about the parenty roles Obi-Wan and Satine each filled for Anakin and Korkie. From Satine's point of view.

There were many things Satine felt ready to deal with. Her place in the world had been apparent from her youth and she had worked to prepare for many situations, from corrupt news media to a violent coups to dress repair. Even the recent year on the run hadn’t been completely terrible, with her self-taught survival skills coming in handy more than once (she knew _exactly_ what Mandalorian poison clover looked like, Obi-Wan, _thank you very much_ ). 

Her current predicament was a bit more than she was prepared to handle. 

She couldn’t be faulted for it, though. Her older brother, Korikan, had been estranged from the family for years. He had not wanted to lead under the New Mandalorian creed and had gone so far as to join his wife’s clan instead. Satine had become heir in his place, and in her relative maturity at the time, she had understood that Korikan still loved her as his baby sister but didn’t want to be part of the new future her parents envisioned. 

That had not saved him from Death Watch. He had been born a Kryze, and the old traditions were fairly clear about the thorough annihilation of one’s enemies. His wife had not been spared, either, which had set her clan against both the Kryze Clan and Death Watch. 

Imagine, then, her surprise at a young man coming to the palace (or, rather, coming to the group of tents and construction projects currently on top of the ruins of the old palace) with a tiny bundle in his arms, claiming that he carried the son of her brother. 

A med droid was able to do a DNA test that confirmed the man’s words, at which point the man slipped away and was never seen again. She never figured out which clan he belonged to, if any at all.

So this was her situation. Sitting on the wreckage of her old life, a temporary bio-dome sheltering them from the wasteland that Mandalore had become, holding the only child of her dead brother. 

She considered the tiny face, currently sleeping. She had vague memories of Bo Katan as a baby (which brought a heartache she wasn’t ready to deal with yet), but mostly remembered that babies didn’t do much and could start crying at any point. He was cute, though. And she was fairly certain this baby had the Kryze nose, which she carefully touched with the tip of her finger. 

She sighed and adjusted her arms. Claiming this boy as a Kryze would put him in danger. If any remnants of Death Watch remained, they would most likely hunt him down. It might be kinder to let him be raised by some other family, a mystery child that would nevertheless grow up safe from political intrigue and violent revolutions. 

But nowhere was really “safe” from all danger. There were other logical reasons for keeping him that she was sure to think of later, but in that moment, all she wanted to do was hold the last member of her family as close as she could and never let go. 

So, unprepared as she was for parenthood (or intensive aunthood, perhaps), she was willing to give it all she had. 

Obi-Wan loved little Korkie, of course. Satine really didn’t know why she thought he wouldn’t. The man was a natural with little children. Korkie calmed right down in his arms, staring wide-eyed at that tranquil yet mischievous smile, and even smiling and giggling at the big hands playing with his tiny ones. Qui-Gon was a favorite as well, telling quiet stories while he let the baby sleep on his chest. 

It was nice to see her Jedi friends without the danger of bounty hunters looming over them, and to share Korkie with them, even if the two men were technically on a mission.

When Obi-Wan commed her about a year after she became Korkie’s guardian, she was not prepared for the tired young man she saw. He whispered to her of the death of his Master, of a boy that needed a home and Jedi training, of his own foray into childcare that he was not in any way ready for. 

Although she knew his heart must be mourning, she admired him for stepping in to fulfill his Master’s wishes. Making sure the boy was trained had apparently been incredibly important to his Master, and seeing it done made Obi-Wan feel less lonely and directionless. Besides, he liked the boy. His name was Anakin, an older child who was curious about everything and always getting into trouble, which Satine privately thought was a good way to distract her Ben from his anxieties. 

The didn’t really talk again for years, busy as they were. Years and years, in which their charges grew older and the galaxy grew crazier. When Satine realized the tall, smiling young man standing next to the auburn-haired Jedi was, in fact, Anakin, she wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to thank him for being there for her friend (best friend still, even if the years had separated them) or congratulate him for making it to adulthood relatively unscathed (the life of a Jedi was never easy). 

After her inquiries into his experience as a padawan, he seemed to think that he had to convince her of Obi-Wan’s best qualities (as if she didn’t already know them and love them) and not-so-casually mentioned that Obi-Wan might want to spend more time with her, and of course he’d be happy to help his friend any way he could, if they wanted to get away to talk or something. It was a cute attempt at wingmanship. 

She watched as Obi-Wan smiled at Korkie and asked about his schooling and what he was thinking about doing in the future, and her nephew was eager to answer the Negotiator. (While her nephew held most of her ideals, he did not have her absolute disdain for war and actually followed the galaxy-wide conflict quite closely. He didn’t know battle; he had not watched his people kill each other.) When Korkie learned that Obi-Wan was the “Uncle Ben” from his bedtime stories, he was beyond delighted and starting badgering him with questions, like “Did you _really_ drop Auntie trying to get away from the venomites?” Satine smiled at Obi-Wan’s rather unimpressed scowl. She had thought it important that Korkie knew that even heroes made mistakes, like dropping the duchess he was supposed to be rescuing. Anakin had a gloved hand over his mouth, obviously trying not to burst into laughter. 

In a quiet, private corner, the two pseudo-parents found each other. 

“You’ve raised him well,” Obi-Wan said, letting himself hold her hand and press a gentle kiss to her fingers.

“As have you,” she replied, reaching up to touch that beard she still wasn’t sure about (but it wasn't all that bad, really). 

They smiled at each other and rested a moment longer.


	3. Day 3: Firsts and Lasts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we have some firsts and lasts of Satine and Obi-Wan’s relationship. Canon compliant.

_First thoughts:_

_She looks pompous. I hope this mission is short._

_He looks arrogant. Why are Jedi even here?_

_First words:_

“I told you, I don’t need extra protection! There’s no reason at all for them to be here. Send them away!” A young human female, angry, sharp, turns to a beleaguered-looking advisor on her right. Her hands are curled into fists at her sides.

“Your grace,” a young human man says, his tone even, his face perfectly placid. The fists hidden in his long sleeves are clenched tight.

_First touch:_

A hand lifts, elegant. Satine doesn’t look at Obi-Wan as he takes her fingers with his larger ones and bows, kissing the air above her hand, and so she misses the flash of blue fire in his eyes.

He turns away too quickly to see the flash of fire in hers as she watches him go.

_First fight:_

“Absolutely not. Opening a communication channel is the surest way to be tracked.”

“If it’s a secure connection, that would only happen if the recipient themselves was tracking the call! My court is trustworthy. They would never betray me in such a way!”

“And I suppose those bounty hunters had an intimate knowledge of the palace layout and your personal schedule from some other source. And certainly no member of your court could be threatened into compliance.”

“We are Mandalorian! Our new creed is peace! What you speak of is treason, and cowardice, and much too dark a conclusion for a peacekeeping _Jedi_ to come to.”

“You seem to be under the impression that the galaxy is full of idealists such as yourself, _your grace_ , and that sort of thinking will only get you killed.”

“Better dead for peace than seeking betrayal in every corner!”

“Better prepared for betrayal than allowing everything you worked for to die!”

_First laugh:_

“Has he always been so…”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says flatly, turning his attention back to the soup over the fire.

Satine chuckles. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.” She brings over some of the food they got from the market and starts to prepare it for roasting.

He smiles back at her, taking a few vegetables and adding them to the pot. “He’s been my mentor for more than a decade. Trust me. Whatever you were going to say, the answer is ‘yes.’” They grin at each other.

There is quiet while Obi-Wan stirs and Satine threads bits of meat onto skewers until Obi-Wan breaks the silence with a gentle laugh. “You know, that actually reminds me of a mission we went on a few years ago.”

Qui-Gon comes back to two young adults giggling like children as they try to keep dinner from burning.

_First cry_ :

Exhausted, but relatively safe, they finally stop running. Obi-Wan lets Satine down and she immediately starts rummaging through their gear, careful not to put weight on her injured leg. Qui-Gon catches his breath for only a moment before telling them he is going to scout the area, and then he is gone.

Out of sight of his Master, Obi-Wan lets himself collapse. His heart is pounding. He doesn’t quite understand. He’s run faster than that, for longer distances, carrying heavier weights. Why does he feel so weak _now_?

He jerks awake—had he fallen asleep?—when Satine starts tugging open his robes. Blushing, he jerks upright, then nearly falls back over as the blood rushes from his head. He groans and presses his hands over his eyes.

“You’re poisoned,” Satine announces. Poisoned? Oh, yes, the venomites. Nasty little things. Obi-Wan nods, still covering his eyes. When Satine tries to remove his clothes again, though, he’s still startled.

“You’re hurt, Ben,” she says. “I’m helping. Sit still.”

He’s momentarily, happily distracted at his new nickname being used, until, for some reason, her taking care of him starts bothering him. It takes a moment (a moment in which Satine manages to completely bare his top half and inject some kind of pain medication into him), but it comes to him eventually. He grabs the wrists of the hands that are starting to spread some sort of gel on his arms and looks down at her legs, trying to find the injury he knows is there. “You’re hurt. I drop...dropped you.”

“Shut up!” is her reply to that. “I don’t care!” Her voice sounds a bit strange, and he finally looks up to focus her face. She...she’s crying. Stars above, she is crying from pain and trying to help him anyways.

With a distressed noise, he tries to reach the medical supplies, ignoring his body’s protest. As he searches, he croons, “No, no, I’ve got you, it’s fine, you’ll be fine—“ To his confusion, that only makes her cry harder. Her intense emotions, mixed with his own exhaustion and pain, start to affect him as well, and he tries (and fails) to blink away the tears forming in his eyes as he digs around the bag to find a bandage and some pain medication. “Satine, I’m sorry, so sorry, Tina, forgive me, I’m—you’ll—“

It is during this blathering that Satine throws her arms around him.

Obi-Wan goes still very quickly. After a moment of her crying against his chest, he cautiously brings up his arms to encircle her. That’s what one did with hugs, right? Return them? He wishes he was thinking clearer. He wishes he would stop crying. He wishes Satine would stop crying. He also wishes that the tiny bites all over his body wouldn’t hurt so badly where Satine is touching him. But Satine is trembling, and obviously is in need of comfort of some kind, so he just holds her close and hopes he is doing the right thing.

“Idiot,” she mumbles against his shoulder. “You’re an idiot.”

Obi-Wan does not dispute this. He is feeling pretty idiotic at the moment.

She lets his idiotic self hug her anyways, and he sits and tries to think. Eventually, one thought rings out about all the others: he had tried to rescue her and she’d gotten hurt anyways. There was a lesson in there somewhere. Something about acceptance and attachment, about the inevitability of existence. Something about not being able to save everyone.

—

_Last laugh:_

The drapes on the windows are pulled shut in Satine’s Coruscant apartment. Even though they aren’t necessarily doing anything wrong or terribly interesting, the gossip columns won’t think so, so they are careful with these meetings.

They sit on the floor, an approximation of their many meals outdoors in years past. That is, if the plush carpet and cushions could be mistaken for uneven dirt and stone, or the ornate artwork a dark forest of leaves and creatures, or their expertly-prepared cuisine a crude mishmash of available ingredients.

Satine hums into her champagne flute. “Well, Anakin Skywalker...he’s certainly something else.”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. “Tina, you don’t even know the half of it.” He bites into a cracker, then almost immediately starts laughing, covering his mouth. He swallows and says with a raised eyebrow, “You, ah, may have noticed a secret relationship with a certain senator?”

A very un-duchess-y snort is the reply. “A _secret_ relationship? They’re trying to keep it a _secret_?” She shakes her head and adds a few pieces of fruit and cheese to her plate.

“‘Trying’ is the operative word here,” he says, then gestures out with his flute. “Anakin is about as subtle as...as...well, something very, very unsubtle.” Obi-Wan drains his champagne and settles further into the cushions behind him.

Satine laughs, tossing a piece of fruit at him. (He catches it, of course. Insufferable man.) “Where has your eloquence gone, O Great Negotiator?”

“Oh, shut up,” he says with a grin, and pops the fruit into his mouth.

_Last fight:_

“These measures are unnecessary. Mandalore is a place of peace. We are not a part of this war, and we will not act as if we are.”

“Even a neutral party in war is a part of the war.”

“Not this again, Ben. I will keep my people safe.”

“And I will keep the galaxy safe. I must.”

“...I know. I understand where you’re coming from. I just...wish this war was over. I wish it had never happened.”

“Don’t dwell on the might-have-beens, my dear. We’re both trying to end this war, and I do understand your position. You’re a wonderful leader and Mandalore is lucky to have someone as dedicated to their safety and future as you. I’m sorry that this has all turned out so...”

“Me too. And though I don’t agree at all with what you’re doing, I know you’re trying to find peace without fighting. You’ve done the best you can with the situation you’ve been given.”

“As have you, Tina.”

“...What a pair we are.”

“Indeed.”

_Last cry:_

Sundari is quiet at night, especially at the palace. Satine stands near a holo terminal, staring out the window at the city, waiting for the call to connect.

“Duchess?” a familiar voice calls. She turns with a smile to see a life-size hologram of Obi-Wan standing before her.

“Ben,” she says, and she watches that careful formality melt away. If she can call him Ben, they are alone. Diplomatic shields are hardly necessary.

He sits down on what she assumes is his bed and she crosses to a nearby sofa to do the same. “How are you doing?” he asks softly.

She looks away. “Children, Ben. They were children. They might have died.”

“But they didn’t. You found out what was wrong. You stopped it. They’re safe.”

She scoffs. “Safe. Yes, safe, until the next black market is set up, or the next official compromises their standards, or the next terrorist attack in a public park, or—“

“Tina.”

She stops and pulls in a ragged breath. She’s trying so hard to keep it together. They really were lucky. No children had died. They’d been uncomfortable for a while, yes, but every one of them had gone home. There had been other problems, though. So many problems. “We trusted people to bring us food, and they bring us poison. We trusted someone with the safekeeping of our children, and he risked their lives for his own profit. We... _I_ trusted Almec to do his job, to find a peaceful, _legal_ solution for our problems. And...”

“Corruption at any level can bring down a city, be it industry, education, or government.”

“How depressing the truths of life are.”

They stay silent for a moment, long enough for Satine gather the frazzled parts of herself. After a deep breath, she looks back at the only person she knows she can trust completely, as different as they are. He looks tired, so tired, and her broken heart shatters a little more. “And you? How are you?”

He’s quiet for a moment, perfectly still, and then leans forward—almost collapses, really—and covers his face with his hands. She sees his shoulders start to shake. “Children, Tina,” comes the quiet, muffled response.

She closes her eyes. She has been spared the front lines of this war, the aftermath, but her Ben has not. And she can’t even hold his hand, or stroke his hair, or cradle that too-big heart close to hers.

All she can do is share his tears.

_Last words:_

“Satine!” He reaches for her. Too late, too late.

She finds the strength to smile, even as her strength fades away. “I’ve loved you always. I always will.”

_Last touch:_

The hand that trembles against his cheek falls away. Still, he doesn’t let go. He can’t. He can’t look away from her face, from her eyes, though they are closed now. That fire that drove her to change worlds has been put out. And with the death of that fire, that light, he feels something within him die as well.

He lifts her hand—elegant as ever, but lifeless and limp—and presses his lips ever-so-gently against it.

_Last thoughts:_

_This isn’t your fault, Ben. Don’t let this destroy you._

_My duchess_ , _my Tina, my love. Forgive me. I’ve failed you._


	4. Day 4: What Could Have Been

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here, we have a “Obi-Wan Leaves the Jedi After Qui-Gon Dies” AU.

Obi-Wan stood before the council. It felt wrong to stand without Qui-Gon by his side, but even if his Master hadn’t died (had it only been a few days?), he had been knighted, and Knights stood on their own.

It was funny, really, that one of his first acts as a Knight was to argue with the council.

“We stand by our original decision,” Master Windu said firmly. “He is too old. He is too fearful. We understand Qui-Gon believed him to be the Chosen One, but we do not agree. We are willing to help relocate him, seeing as it was a Jedi that brought him here, but the boy will not become a Jedi himself.” Obi-Wan looked at the faces of the other council members. Some seemed a bit sad, but it seemed to be a unanimous decision.

“Nothing I can say will convince you otherwise?” Obi-Wan asked. He was tired. Effective negotiation was a bit beyond him at the moment, even though negotiation was an integral part of being a Knight. A little piece of his mind whispered that he wasn’t ready to be a Knight at all. A Jedi was meant to find peace and resolution through words and persuasion and compassion, not violence, and yet his Knighthood came as a result of him killing someone. _A fraud, a failure, a mockery of my own values. What would Satine think of me?_

“Unable to be swayed in this matter, the council is,” Master Yoda replied, tapping his staff against the ground to emphasize his point. “If returned, the Sith have, then a liability, this boy will be.”

“Then surely that is all the more reason to train him!” Obi-Wan cried, stepping forward. Predictably, the council members did not respond well to this show of confrontation, some of them now frowning in earnest. _Qui-Gon would be proud of me_ , his traitorous heart whispered. _Satine would be, as well._ She had thought him spineless, once, near the beginning of their year on the run. He remembered _that_ particular conversation with excruciating clarity. Had anyone ever challenged him like she did?

He missed her.

“He would be too easily turned,” added Master Koon, bringing Obi-Wan back to the present moment. _Or maybe Qui-Gon would not be so proud. Focus on the present, Obi-Wan_. “If we taught him and he then became a Sith, he would be a greater threat to our Order.”

This was a losing battle. But Obi-Wan was nothing if not stubborn. “Masters, please, I beg of you, reconsider. Anakin was a slave. He has nowhere else to go, and my Master promised him he would be a Jedi.” _So did I. Please don’t make me a liar_.

“Master Jinn did not have authority to speak on behalf of the council, Knight Kenobi,” Master Windu said in a slightly raised voice (one that Obi-Wan recognized from reprimands his Master had received before). “As I said, we are willing to help this boy find a suitable situation, and that is all.” His words were immovable, resolute.

Obi-Wan breathed out, then bowed. “As you say, Masters.” Then he turned and walked out of the room before he was dismissed, leaving surprised muttering behind him.

Anakin was waiting outside the council chamber, looking as though he were trying very hard to be brave. Those big blue eyes met his as Obi-Wan appeared, hopeful, and then that hope faded as he took in Obi-Wan’s faint scowl.

“Anakin,” he said, “let’s...head to the apartment. I’ll make us dinner.” Food made everything better, right? Even if the apartment was full of a decade’s worth of memories with Qui-Gon, it was familiar to both him and Anakin now.

Anakin hurried to his side and they made the short walk to the apartment in silence.

All the while, Obi-Wan’s mind was racing. What was he going to do? How was he supposed to tell Anakin that everything that had brought him here had fallen through? Maybe he should have let the council break the news to the boy, but he had been planning on Anakin being his padawan. He’d already started some basic training, even building the beginnings of a training bond, and it felt too much like betrayal to leave him to face the council alone, or to leave him at all.

_I’m too attached. Stars above, not even a week as a Knight and I feel like I’ve broken every rule there is._

But he would not leave Anakin. He couldn’t.

_Then I will have to leave with him._

The thought stopped him dead in his tracks. He blinked. Where had _that_ come from? He’d just been knighted! The Order was everything to him—the only family he’d ever known.

A tug on his sleeve made him look down. Anakin was looking up at him with concern, one hand grabbing his robe. “Obi-Wan?”

_There are some things that are bigger than me. Some things that are more important._

Dear Force, this was happening.

He pulled Anakin the last few meters to the apartment. Anakin’s eyes were wide now, even more so when Obi-Wan knelt down in front of him. “Anakin,” he said, feeling a bit off-kilter but guided by the Force nonetheless, “the council still doesn’t want you trained as a Jedi.” Shock and sorrow from his little charge. “I don’t really care.” More shock. “I have a friend who will probably let us stay with her.” As if Satine could be counted as merely a friend. “We can figure things out from there. If you want me to train you unofficially, or something else entirely, it’ll be fine. We’ll have time to work it all out. But this is a big deal—it’s your future. The council also said they would find you somewhere safe to stay, if you want, so I’ll give you some time to decide—”

“Stay with me!” Anakin cried. He had tears in his eyes, which sort of flustered Obi-Wan. He’d never been good with tears. “Please don’t leave me! I can’t lose you, too!” And he threw his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck, who returned the hug carefully.

“I won’t leave if you don’t want me to. Of course I won’t.” He let Anakin cry for a bit, stroking his back. When he’d calmed down, Obi-Wan asked, “So does that mean you’ll come with me to my friend’s?”

A sniffly nod was his answer.

“Okay. I’ll go comm her and let her know we’re coming. Why don’t you take a rest? We’ll probably have to leave soon.”

Another sniffly nod. Anakin wandered off to Qui-Gon’s room and Obi-Wan took a deep breath. Food first. Then he’d comm Satine.

Definitely not stalling, Obi-Wan put together some sandwiches and left one on the table for Anakin, then straightened up his room a little so it would look presentable in the holo call (it didn’t matter that holo calls usually didn’t show the room—he wanted it to look nice, just in case). He checked his hair, marveled again at the absence of his padawan braid, considered changing robes, and paced around a bit. It was just Satine. Sure, she was one of the most frightening and fantastic people he’d ever met, and he hadn’t talked to her in a while. but he certainly didn’t need to be so worried. Determined, he nodded and input the code for Satine’s personal holo.

Almost immediately he wished he hadn’t. But it was done. He closed his eyes and tried to release his nervousness into the Force. As usual, where Satine was concerned, it was more difficult than strictly necessary.

“Obi-Wan?” came that lovely voice. He opened his eyes and saw the little figure of Satine. Even with everything that had happened, after his very world had turned inside-out, just seeing her made him happy.

“Hello, Satine,” he said with a smile. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

“Nothing that can’t be resumed later. It’s so good to see you. How are you? How is Qui-Gon?” She leaned forward a little, hands clasped before her heart, eager for news.

And reality’s cold waves came crashing back over him. His smile faded. “Ah. Satine…”

She was instantly alert, her hands falling to her sides. “What is it? What’s happened? Where’s Qui-Gon? Did something happen to him?”

He opened his mouth, but the words seemed to be stuck in his throat. To his shame, he felt tears starting to form, and he tried to wipe them away quickly. _There is no emotion, there is peace._ But he was leaving the Order, so did that matter anymore? Everything he depended on was crumbling around him. More tears formed, and he couldn’t choke out any words to explain them.

“Ben, please, tell me what’s happened,” Satine said, her voice firm but her eyes clearly showing her worry. Always calm in a crisis. Obi-Wan loved that about her.

It took a moment, but he was able to say, very quietly, “Qui-Gon is dead.”

Satine’s face fell. “No. No, no, oh, Ben.”

Her sympathy was his undoing. He sat down hard on the bed, his face in his hands. He hadn’t really had the chance to process everything yet. He trembled and focused on his breathing—in, out—to try and pull himself together. There were still things to do. He could mourn later.

He looked back up at the holo. “Satine, I need a favor.”

She blinked at the abrupt topic change. “Um, of course, Ben, but—”

“I’m leaving the Order.”

Silence. Cautiously, Satine said, “Ben, I know you must be terribly upset, but I don’t think Qui-Gon would want you to leave and give up on your dreams because of his death. Or do you just mean a break? I’m sure the council would understand.”

Satine, who loved him with all her heart but knew he had wanted to be a Jedi and so had said nothing. Who, even though she would probably stand to benefit the most from his leaving the Order, was encouraging him to keep living his dream. Wonderful, wonderful woman.

“There’s a boy, Satine.” Her eyebrows went up. “That is, Qui-Gon found a boy who...well, he said he would train him, but the council said no, and now he has to leave, but I can’t leave him, Tina, I just can’t, and I don’t really have anywhere else to go and we are _certainly_ not going back to his home planet, and I need to figure things out, but I don’t know how long that will take, and I don’t want the council to take him away, and I just…” He trailed off, sort of surprised at the inarticulate mass of words that had just flooded out of him. “I was wondering if it would be possible for the boy and myself to stay with you, for a while.”

Satine looked at him intently, her lips pursed. After a moment, she nodded. “Right. I’ll be there in a few hours.”

It was his turn to be startled. “What? Oh, no, Satine, there’s no need for that. We’ll find a transport or something.”

“Knowing your luck?” Satine said with a little smirk. “You’d probably get on a ship that’d be redirected to the Unknown Regions, and then I’d have to go rescue you. So, no, I’ll come and get you and save the time.”

Obi-Wan scowled. Satine continued to smirk. A part of himself rejoiced that she could tease him even now, so he sighed. “Very well. You’ll do exactly as you like anyways, so I might as well benefit from it.”

Satine leaned back, a triumphant grin on her face. “You know me so well. I’ll comm you when I’m out of hyperspace.” With that, the holo shut off and Obi was left in his once-again quiet room.

Too quiet. Suffocating. He quickly stood and started to pace, just to distract himself.

Now then. How exactly did one go about leaving the Order? He had the vague impression that someone could just, well, _leave_ , but he didn’t want there to be any misunderstandings or people coming after them. He was also fairly certain any member of the council would try to persuade him to stay if he told them in person. He wasn’t sure if he could handle that.

It felt like the cowards way out, but Obi-Wan decided to leave behind his Jedi paraphernalia and a message to explain what had happened. If he made an announcement, having his friends, his family, try to persuade him to stay would probably be harder than he was prepared to handle. He knew what he had to do. He had made his choice. And maybe taking this “coward’s way” out would show the Jedi how unfit he was for Knighthood and they would be more likely to leave him alone.

Hopefully his friends would forgive him.

Groaning, he rubbed his eyes. He had to pack the few belongings he had, find new, non-Jedi clothes for himself and Anakin, and write a suitable “I’m leaving, please don’t follow me” letter, but all he wanted to do was sleep. _There will be time enough to rest later._

He readied everything in the four hours it took for Satine’s ship to arrive. Anakin had been briefed on the situation and now sat on the couch in his new clothes, his worn-out backpack on the ground next to him, looking through a mechanically-themed magazine that happened to be in the room. Obi-Wan was doing his best to release his emotions, however futile it seemed to be at the moment.

Then his comm beeped and he accepted the call on his holo.

“We’re here. Where should we meet?” the tiny blue Satine asked promptly.

He grinned. “Nice to see you too, Satine.” Anakin giggled from the couch.

She rolled her eyes. “We’ll worry about pleasantries later. Now, we’ve got an escape to plan.”

“Satine, we’re not prisoners. I was planning on just walking out the front door and meeting you at the public dock nearby. Or is that not glamorous enough for you, Duchess? Should we sneak out a window instead?”

A gusty sigh, then, “Very well. Look for my ship at the very boring, very normal dock after you walk your boring self there.”

“See you then.” He shut off the comm, then turned to Anakin. “Well? Ready to make a run for it?” Making it light-hearted distracted him from the fact that he was _running away_.

Anakin laughed. “I thought we weren’t prisoners.”

Obi-Wan smiled and picked up his own backpack. “Let’s get going.”

The walk to the front door was uneventful, which immediately put Obi-Wan on edge. Surely it couldn’t go so perfectly. And yet, they passed the other temple residents and the guards, who barely spared them a glance. Those who came _out_ of the temple were far less worthy of notice than those who came _in_. Obi-Wan let out a breath. They were safe.

Which is when he was tackled. Anakin squeaked and hid himself behind a nearby bush, and Obi-Wan wriggled away enough to see that it was Bant who’d accosted him. He sighed and patted the Mon Calamari on the back. He knew their “escape” had been too easy.

“Obi-Wan, I’ve been looking everywhere for you, and you’re already headed out? Right now? Why didn’t you tell the council no? Surely they’ll give you some time after…after…”

“It’s for the best, Bant,” he said, trying to find words that would at least be half-truths. “I need to be doing something anyways.”

Bant shook her head. “I think you’re making a mistake.” She sighed. “Well, come back soon. We’ll have a get-together or something. And I’ll see if I can’t get you off on some medical leave. Jedi have to have time to mourn too, you know.” The gentle, sincere hand on his arm almost broke his composure entirely.

A sad little smile. “I know, Bant. I have to get going, though. I’ll see you later.” _Maybe._

He pretended he couldn’t hear her further questions and hurried away. He glanced behind him to see Anakin sneaking along one side of a hedge and smiled. Gesturing with his head, he set off at a jog towards the dock.

The last time he’d seen Satine’s ship was when he and Qui-Gon had flown away from the palace. It looked just as he remembered it, and it was somehow comforting and heartbreaking at the same time. The ship was the same. He was mostly the same. Qui-Gon would never be as he was before.

The ship was ready for them, and Obi-Wan ushered Anakin up the ramp to where Satine stood waiting for them. She smiled and wrapped her arms around Obi-Wan as soon as he was aboard. He hugged her back tightly, delighted beyond reason to be holding her again.

She pulled back all too soon for his liking. “You’ve yet to introduce me to your friend, Obi-Wan. And here I thought you were so polite.”

Anakin looked like he was torn between defending Obi-Wan or just laughing at him. Obi-Wan shook his head. “Satine, meet Anakin Skywalker. Anakin, this is Satine Kryze. She’s the friend we’ll be staying with.”

Anakin smiled broadly and stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you,” he said.

Satine no doubt caught on that he hadn’t introduced her as a Duchess (that would probably make Anakin feel too in awe of her) and played along. “Likewise,” she said with a smile, shaking his hand. She turned and started walking further into the ship. “Well, come on. We’ll be more comfortable back here.”

As she walked ahead, Obi-Wan felt Anakin grab his hand and pull him back a little. He turned and took in Anakin’s suddenly hesitant stance. “Anakin?” he prompted. Had the boy reconsidered coming with him? He wouldn’t blame him.

The boy shifted a bit, still holding his hand, then said, “Can we...that is…I want to free my mom. Later. I mean, soon, but not now. Just...when we decide what to do.”

Obi-Wan hummed in understanding. “Certainly. We’ll have to find a way to earn the money, of course. But that’s definitely something we can do.”

Big, tearful blue eyes looked up at him. “Do you mean it?”

“Well, of course I mean it. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.”

It seemed to be Obi-Wan’s day for hugs, since Anakin practically catapulted himself into Obi-Wan’s middle, hugging him tight and just saying “thank you” over and over.

Obi-Wan let out a little huff, then returned the hug around the awkward shape of Anakin’s backpack. After a while, they resumed walking down the corridor, their hands linked again. Obi-Wan saw Satine waiting for them and felt his heart melt a little at her soft, understanding smile.

_We’re going to be just fine._


	5. Day 5: Endings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I struggled with thinking of something for “endings,” so have some different “endings” all rolled into one situation!

There are some things that can only be explained away by, “It was the will of the Force.” Even then, even for those who believed in the Force and knew that truly comprehending its complexity was impossible, it was pretty unsatisfying.

In this situation, especially, Obi-Wan would have appreciated _some_ measure of understandability. Because he was currently looking at three men who all vaguely resembled him, if he had at any point decided on being a cyborg pirate, a dapper politician, or a guerilla warrior.

The massive Force migraine definitely wasn’t helping anything.

“The kark is going on?” the cyborg pirate growled out, his one cybernetic eye seeming to scan over all of them warily as he drew a gun from its holster at his side.

The dapper politician looked uncomfortable as he eyed the decidedly-less-than-clean temple ruins they were in, pulling his cape up from the ground and draping it over an arm. “Yes, if anyone knows, do tell. I was in a rather important dinner meeting, and I really need to—“

“Oh, shut your trap, you wretched Core socialite,” the guerilla warrior scoffed, checking the communicator on his wrist with a scowl. “It’s not like those meetings actually _help_ anyone, anyways. Probably just gabbing about the latest scandal while your constituents starve in the streets.”

Which started an argument, which Obi-Wan could only watch in horrified stupor.

“Anakin,” he whispered after he had a moment to remember how to speak, “please tell me I’m not watching myself fight about social functions and wasteful food practices.”

“Um,” Anakin eloquently responded.

“Um,” Ahsoka helpfully added.

The cyborg finally stepped between the two arguers and pushed his arms out, the added power of his artificial limbs forcibly separating and distracting them. “Shut up, the both of you.”

They didn’t, and now there were three loud, almost identical voices echoing throughout the temple and Obi-Wan tried not to wince. _Was this place made to exacerbate headaches?_

Which is when Satine came through the door. Obi-Wan sagged with relief. _Someone competent._ He’d almost forgotten she was standing watch for them on this rather deserted planet in Mandalorian space.

“I was under the impression that this was a _stealth_ —“ Not surprisingly, she stopped when she took in the increased number of people in the room. The arguing also stopped and the three not-Obi-Wans (and one Obi-Wan) stared at Satine.

—

Satine turned to Obi-Wan (the Jedi one) with a scowl, stalking towards him. “You said this was an easy mission. A retrieval. Simple, you said, it just needed more people to be there. A sort of vacation mission.” She threw her arms out as if to showcase how exactly this mission was _not_ a vacation.

“Yes. Well.” He seemed too shell-shocked to say anything more.

It was a bit awkward as they stood in silence. The well-dressed Obi-Wan stepped forward, hand slightly extended and a tentative smile on his face as he looked into her eyes. He let his hand drop after a moment. “You...you’re not my Duchess, are you.” It was less of a question and more of a resignation.

Satine managed not to blush ( _my Duchess_ , in Obi-Wan’s voice). “No, I’m afraid not. I am Satine, though, and a duchess. Satine Kryze, Duchess of Mandalore.” She gave a quick curtsy. “Nice to meet you all, I suppose.” She noticed now that the man was wearing the colors of the Kryze Clan, in an outfit that would not look out of place on a man standing by her side in one of her evening gowns, and her traitorous, dreamy heart fluttered.

The scruffy cyborg Obi-Wan spluttered. “Duchess? You...oh, that explains _so kriffing much_.” He ran a metal hand through his shaggy hair. A Satine that wasn’t a duchess? And that knew this...battered Obi-Wan? Again, her heart fluttered as she imagined daring feats, of lovers high on adrenaline and the thrill of being alive after a narrow escape, of running her own hands through that messy hair.

She wanted to smack herself. Thirty-five was far too old for those kind of fantasies, especially for a man who was a Jedi (at least, in her universe).

Obi-Wan glared at the man “Language, if you don’t mind.” He was ignored as the man continued muttering to himself, shaking his head.

The armor-wearing Obi-Wan scoffed (was that his only method of communicating?). “She’s Mandalorian. If she’s anything like my Tina, she can curse the hide off a Mivin dragon and still tell a squadron what for.” It was true, of course, although the look of mischief on his face as he shot her a smirking glance was too familiar to be anything but disturbing.

 _My Tina_ , he’d said. Although she didn’t like the implication that she was in charge of and cursing at a group of warriors. What sort of reality would force her to fight (because she certainly wouldn’t be fighting willingly)?

“I was more concerned for the fifteen-year-old,” Obi-Wan responded dryly. “I’d like to not completely corrupt her before she’s an adult.”

(Ahsoka was watching the talking like a sports match, wide blue eyes bouncing from person to person.)

Anakin seemed to recover from his stupor. “So, wait. Do _all_ of you guys know Satine?” He seemed far too eager to know the answer, but Satine had to admit she wanted to know for sure as well.

There was some looking around and shrugging.

“I suppose.”

“Looks that way.”

“Kriffing married her. Be in trouble if I _didn’t_ know her.” _Married!_

“ _Language._ ”

“I’ll give you _language_ , you—“

Satine stepped forward.

All Obi-Wans ceased talking.

“Why don’t we focus on getting all of you back where you belong?” She turned to the Jedi in the room. “Well? What happened?”

—

The others were figuring out the logistics of what and how and why, but Anakin was plotting and trying to keep the grin off his face. There were _three Obi-Wan Kenobis_. He had so many _questions_. Like, what had happened in these three presumably alternate realities? To those Anakins? Or the Jedi? Or the war?

Or, most interesting at that moment, what exactly was the relationship between all of the Obi-Wans and their Satines? And what were the respective ladies like? As far as he could tell, there was a possible pirate (maybe a pirate Queen!), a Lady of some kind, and a Mandalorian warrior.

It would probably be best to take each interrogation of Obi-Wan on one by one. Surely it wouldn’t be too hard to get them to talk about their lady loves. Maybe he could recruit Ahsoka.

This was too good a chance to miss!


	6. Day 6: Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one features a favorite theory of mine—and the consequences of keeping secrets.

Anakin had seen Obi-Wan mad before. Of course he had. They were both stubborn and were about as different as people could be, so there had been arguments and fights and anger (even if Obi-Wan always calmed down first, since he was better at releasing his emotions to the Force).

The scene playing out before him, though, was beyond anything he’d seen before.

Obi-Wan stood rigid, his eyes locked on a teen that had just burst into the room. The kid hadn’t been expecting anyone to be there, judging by the rather impressive shade of red he was turning. The Duchess of Mandalore introduced him as her nephew, Korkie.

If Anakin hadn’t known Obi-Wan so well, he probably wouldn’t have noticed how absolutely still he was. The teen, meanwhile, was happy, bowing in welcome and apology with a smile as bright as a star, then coming right up to Obi-Wan.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” Korkie said to Obi-Wan while rocking forward a bit on his toes. “My aunt told me so many stories about your year on the run when I was little. It’s a little strange to meet you now, actually.” The kid blushed a bit and laughed a little awkwardly.

Ah. Hero worship. Maybe Obi-Wan had sensed that and was just uncomfortable with it. His Master hated getting attention, after all, even if he deserved it.

Anakin, satisfied with that explanation, shot a quick glance around the room, taking in the few scattered clones that had come with them and Ahsoka standing near some of them. All accounted for.

Obi-Wan smiled and bowed back to the teen. “And your aunt has nothing but good things to say about you, Korkie. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

But Anakin could feel the emotion (anger?) building in Obi-Wan, which was in itself a feat. Obi-Wan’s shields were basically impregnable, and the only emotions he let through were the ones he wanted others to see. This, though, this bubbling rage, was not in any way normal.

Anakin tried to feel out the other people in the room. Was one of them a traitor or criminal or something? Obi-Wan had dealt with those before, quite calmly, too, but this was Satine’s world. And if Obi-Wan felt even a little bit like Anakin himself felt for Padme, he probably wasn’t thinking all that clearly when it came to Satine’s safety, and that could lead to all sorts of horrible things for all parties involved.

He supposed this was a role reversal of sorts.

He _did not_ like it.

Ahsoka sent a mental poke across their training bond. He glanced over to see her wide blue eyes. She must be feeling Obi-Wan’s anger as well.

He was growing seriously concerned. He knew his Master; they were friends, brothers, almost, and he could often feel just a few more emotions than Obi-Wan wanted him to. If Anakin’s own padawan was feeling it, though, then this had officially progressed beyond anything he knew how to deal with.

He let out a breath. They needed to fall back, regroup, and find out what was going on. He shrugged in a somewhat exaggerated way to get the troops’ attention, then scratched the back of his neck. _Retreat._ He added in a rub under his nose as well. _With Obi-Wan._

He saw one group of troops turn to leave. They’d be smart about it, of course. No need to draw everyone’s attention. Anakin himself made his way to Obi-Wan, running through the list of excuses he could use to get them out of there.

_“The council commed. We have to see what they want.”_

_“There’s a bit of a situation with the troops. Nothing serious, of course, but we do need Obi-Wan, since he’s the only responsible adult between the two of us.”_

_“We’ve suddenly and inexplicably been called off-world after arriving here only an hour ago and after all the trouble it took to get us here without making anyone too mad. Ain’t that just the way?”_

Well. Maybe some excuses were better than others. He’d use the council one.

As he came up to Obi-Wan’s side, he saw Korkie leaving though a side door with a sheepish little wave. A few other members of Satine’s council seemed to be readying to leave as well. Maybe no excuse was needed after all. They could just leave. Oh, thank goodness.

And then Obi-Wan opened his mouth.

“Duchess, I have to say, I’m surprised I haven’t met your _nephew_ before.”

Um. _That_ was a weird emphasis. Was Obi-Wan seriously questioning the legitimacy of her dead brother’s child? He caught Rex’s eye and gestured for him to come over. This might take the both of them.

Satine’s face paled a bit, which Anakin also found weird. Was there a _reason_ to question the legitimacy of her dead brother’s child? Did that even matter in elected monarchy/duchy things? “Well, I thought for sure you had. He’s a wonderful young man, don’t you think? All of Mandalore is so proud of him.” She started to inch away. “I really must be—”

“It’s strange, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a picture of him. Anywhere. Rather odd, considering the family he belongs to. Rather odd, considering how much you’ve told me about him.” Obi-Wan had folded his arms behind his back and turned to look at the stained glass windows lining the hall. “Rather odd, since we’ve been in touch for the past _fifteen years_.” The last bit was said with the fiercest side-eye Anakin had ever seen. There might have even been an involuntary eye twitch in there.

Why in the name of everything good was Obi-Wan _this_ upset about not meeting her nephew before? Or maybe this wasn’t about Korkie at all? Were they arguing about their relationship? Why would that come up while talking about Korkie? He felt like he was missing something important.

He sighed and looked around. He saw Ahsoka was coming as well now, doing her best to hurry and look casual at the same time. Anakin cleared his throat. “Well, Obi-Wan, I—”

“Were you planning on introducing us at some point, Satine? _Any_ point? Or should I wait a bit longer?” The members of the council that were leaving had stopped, quieting down to try to listen to the rather dramatic conversation. Obi-Wan stepped closer and lowered his voice so that Anakin could barely hear it, almost hissing. “Nine months, maybe? That should be enough to arrange a _meeting_ , at the very least. Certainly enough time to _let me know_.”

This was like watching a bantha barrel though a shack. You couldn’t stop it. You could only watch in horror as everything was smashed to pieces. Also, that was a _really_ specific number of months. Again, he felt like he was missing something. It was just so hard to _focus_ with all of Obi-Wan’s emotions rushing around him like a hurricane.

His backup arrived. Anakin looked at Ahsoka and jerked his head towards Satine. No time for subtlety. They needed to disarm this situation, _quickly_.

“Duchess,” Ahsoka said, turning to the woman with a big grin. She threaded her arm through the taller woman’s and starting to pull her towards the nearest door while Anakin tried to put an arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders and direct him out of the room. Satine continued glaring at Obi-Wan, who continued glaring back. “You know, I still haven’t seen—”

Satine yanked her arm away—with surprising strength, if the shock on Ahsoka’s face was anything to go by. “I was under the impression you were rather busy and wouldn’t have cared either way,” she snapped at Obi-Wan, folding her arms in front of her. “After all, you seemed eager enough to leave the first time. I wouldn’t want you to get caught up in something that didn’t really _matter_ to you.”

The room was suddenly very quiet.

Obi-Wan was standing stock still again and Anakin couldn’t budge him, however hard he tried. The older man’s emotions were just a big, nebulous, incomprehensible blob now. He blinked once, twice, then said, slowly, “Wouldn’t...have...cared…?” He refocused on Satine’s face, but his expression remained blank.

This was almost worse than the turmoil of only a minute ago. Just a fog, a haze.

Finally, Obi-Wan took in a shuddering breath. He squared his shoulders. He stood up straight. He looked every bit a soldier about to march into battle.

Then Obi-Wan smiled. In his normal, easy tone of voice, he said, “Of course. I understand completely.” Then he bowed. “Forgive me, Duchess. I lost my temper. It won’t happen again.” And as he turned on his heel and strode out of the room, Anakin saw a tear slide down his cheek.

The Duchess took one step back, her eyes somehow burning with indignation and on the brink of tears at the same time, before she, too, turned and left.

Anakin almost gasped at the sudden absence of riotous emotion. He staggered over to a pillar and leaned his shoulder against it, ignoring the chatter of the remaining council members and troopers. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, grimacing at the headache that was starting to form. And as he stood there, his mind clearing, he was able to think through the most out-of-character fight he’d ever witnessed. In particular, one phrase stood out:

_Nine months._

Such a specific number. Why nine? What was so special about nine standard months?

And then it all made sense, and he felt his knees go weak. He had a vague impression that Ahsoka had shouted and tried to catch him on his way down to the ground, but he was a bit too busy having an epiphany to register it.

Nine months was the length of a human pregnancy.

Satine was Korkie’s mother, not his aunt.

Obi-Wan had a kid.

 _Korkie_ was Obi-Wan’s kid.

They did look a bit alike, now that Anakin was thinking about it. Same chin. Same shade of blue eyes. Even that goofy, shy smile of a boy meeting his hero was familiar. And his hair was red and blonde together—Obi-Wan and Satine.

And Obi-Wan hadn’t known.

Oh, how in the world was he going to fix this mess?


	7. Day 7: Anything!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a what-if AU, with pre-parental panic Obi-Wan.

Logically, Obi-Wan knew he was going to be a father.

Nine month of medical visits, well-wishers, supply shopping, and planning for how their lives would change would do that.

Emotionally, though, as he sat in the waiting room, he realized that he had no actual idea of what he was getting into.

Anakin had been nine when he came to the temple, halfway grown already. While he had needed some help in classes and training, he hadn’t required the kind of care a newborn would need. Ahsoka was even older, needing even less. And while they’d watched the twins a few times, that was hardly the same as actual parenting.

He wasn’t ready for this!

No, no, it was fine. He took a deep breath and let his anxiety go. Even if he wasn’t ready, he had Satine, and Bo Katan, and Korkie, and Anakin and Padme, and all the other people who wanted to be a part of the new Kenobi-Kryze baby’s life (there were a lot—Jedi loved babies).

His emotions had been all over the place since the end of the war. Part of him couldn’t believe it was over, or that so much had changed. The council had listened (after several intense meetings) when he put forth his reasons for changing the way they viewed the Jedi code, citing the increased disconnect from the people of the galaxy and the possibility that Jedi were viewed as warmongers; Palpatine’s plan to turn the Republic against the Jedi had never come to fruition, but it wouldn’t have been difficult. Marriage was officially allowed, with special considerations for spouses and parents when it came to missions, which meant more meetings (he didn’t begrudge the other Jedi their happiness, though). The Jedi were pulling back from the policing force they had been and were now focused on humanitarian efforts to help people recover from a pointless war, which of course required many more meetings. He was tired pretty much all the time, now.

He and Satine had talked once the stance on matrimony had been finalized, tentatively planning a future together. It was good timing, really, that Satine’s current term as Duchess had only a few months left, and they were able to marry just a week after the newly elected Duke was instated.

The pregnancy had been a bit of a surprise.

But, here they were, at the best hospital on Kalevala, with Obi-Wan trying very hard not to worry as his wife worked on bringing their child into the world. He wished he had something to distract himself with.

Anakin burst through the waiting room door as if on cue, one of the twins strapped to his chest. “Obi-Wan!” he whisper-shouted, trying not to wake the baby currently in his care. “We just got here—how are you doing?”

Obi-Wan smiled and walked over to clasp arms with him. “Well enough, Anakin. It’s not as though I’m doing any of the hard work right now. How are you? Is Padme with you?”

Anakin smiled and looked down at the baby sleeping against his chest, bringing up a hand to cradle the tiny head. Dark hair—Leia, then. “We’re all here. Luke needed a change and Padme said I could go ahead. Ahsoka’s on her way back from a mission, so she’ll be here soon, too.” He looked up. “Seriously, Obi-Wan, how are you? And don’t say fine! I know that’s a load of—um—well, it’d be a lie.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile at his friend censoring himself for a baby that couldn’t understand him. “I’m trying to stay calm.” He added with a smirk, “I admit, watching you and Padme go through this has been a help to me. I think you were nervous enough then that I don’t have to be now.” Anakin scowled.

“Glad to be of use, Obi-Wan,” a soft voice said. Anakin looked up at his wife with a grin, and then he bounced a bit as Leia started to fuss. Obi-Wan nodded at Padme and smiled at Luke’s curious blue eyes watching him from his mother's arms. Something to focus on—he felt his heart rate slowing marginally as he relaxed.

A med droid floated in. “Mr. Kenobi?” And all those pre-parental nerves came rushing back. Droids didn’t have emotions or intentions that could be felt with the Force—what if something had gone wrong? It hadn’t been long enough for the birth, had it? Padme’s labor had gone on for _hours_ , long enough that Obi-Wan had seriously considered tranquilizers for the increasingly-frantic father.

“You have a daughter, Mr. Kenobi,” the droid continued, unaware of his momentary panic.

It felt like the floor was gone, like his stomach had tied itself in knots, like his heart was flying out of his throat. A daughter!

“Mrs. Kryze said you could come in—”

Obi-Wan skirted quickly around the droid down the hall and into the room he knew Satine was in. He stopped at the door.

She looked tired, but she had a smile on her face. She held a tiny little bundle of blankets to her chest, cooing softly to it. When she saw him, tears sparkled in her eyes and her smile grew.

It was hard to breathe. Obi-Wan slowly moved towards the bed, almost not believing his eyes.

But no, there was a new little human, pink and a bit wrinkly and the most beautiful thing Obi-Wan had ever seen.

He fell into a chair by the bed. Satine laughed softly. “Ben, my dear, are you alright?”

Words escaped him. A daughter! Healthy—both his girls—his family.

“Would you like to hold her?”

He nodded, and they managed to transfer the baby with relative ease (they had practiced when babysitting the twins).

So small. So full of potential. He held a bright, wonderful future in his arms, and he was overwhelmed. He didn’t even try to stop the tears that came.

“My dear?”

He looked up into lovely, worried blue eyes and managed what he hoped was a smile. “I love you, Satine.”

She smiled back and reached out to brush a few of his tears away. “I love you as well.”

Teeny little fussing noises came from his arms and he smiled at the little face that was scrunching itself awake. He carefully lifted the baby so he could kiss the miniature nose. “And I love you, my tiny darling.” He handed her back to Satine, who cuddled her close and adjusted the blanket around her.

After a moment of appreciating where life had brought them, she asked, “Have you thought of any names?” They had wanted to wait until they met their child before they picked names out, hoping that a name would just “fit” their new family member.

As Obi-Wan took in the picture—his rumpled wife, his wiggly daughter—his heart felt full to bursting. This was his life. This was where he was meant to be. “Would you mind terribly if we called her Hope?”

“Hm. Hope, for a brave new future. Yes, I think it will do nicely.” Satine brushed a finger against a soft little cheek. “Welcome to the galaxy, our darling new Hope.”


End file.
